


Public Indecency

by pipermca



Series: Sparkr Stories [5]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Public Scene, Verbal Sex, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 10:58:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13588635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipermca/pseuds/pipermca
Summary: Prowl has an idea of how to kill some time before his and Jazz's dinner reservation.





	Public Indecency

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after [Frag the Police](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11955531/chapters/27032316).

Jazz bounced on his pedes as they entered the park. He knew he looked undignified, but he had too much pent-up energy to walk as sedately as Prowl. “That game was off the charts!” he exclaimed.

Prowl tipped his helm forward in agreement. “That **was** a rather good game. I’ll admit that I had some reservations about attending; sports aren’t usually my thing. I had a very good time. It was a nice gesture for your friend to get us tickets.”

“Blaster’s a first-class mech,” Jazz agreed. “And it was nice to finally spend some time with his new partner. I’d met Sideswipe in passing but hadn’t really gotten a chance to talk to him.”

“It turns out I’d actually met him before, a few times.” Prowl looked up at a tall crystal they were passing as they walked. “I’ve worked a few details where we collaborated with Senate Security, and Sideswipe was among their security officers.”

“Small planet, I guess,” Jazz said with a smile.

Prowl paused. “We have almost a full groon before our dinner reservation,” he said. He placed a firm hand on Jazz’s back and gestured at a bench set back from the path, nearly hidden by a tall stand of crystals. “Did you want to sit and relax while we wait?”

Still feeling very wound up after the exciting rocketball game, Jazz thought about saying no. He was enjoying their walk and the chance to burn off some excess energy. But as he considered, Prowl’s hand dipped lower on his back, and rested firmly on his aft.

Prowl’s hand gave his aft a firm squeeze.

Jazz looked at Prowl. The Enforcer was looking back at him, a faint smile on his lips and a playful glint in his optics. Jazz smiled back and said, “It don’t feel like ‘relaxing’ is what ya have in mind, mech, but I’m game.”

Without a word, Prowl raised his hand back to Jazz’s back and used it to maneuverer him into the small grotto. Before they even settled on the bench, Jazz had twisted around to wrap his arms around Prowl’s neck and lock their lips together.

Prowl’s hand slid down past his waist, then trailed back and forth between Jazz’s hip and aft. His other hand tipped Jazz’s helm towards him, giving him a better angle to delve his glossa deep into Jazz’s mouth.

His fans already running high, Jazz leaned into the kisses. Prowl was one of the better kissers, if not **the** best, that Jazz had ever been with. He kissed with a gentle authority that Jazz could not deny even if he wanted to. Firm lips pressed into his, asking and then taking as Prowl gripped the side of his helm firmly.

“Aah, slag, Prowler. You sure know where my magic buttons are,” Jazz said. He put one hand around Prowl’s waist, pulling their hips close together on the bench. His other hand fumbled up from Prowl’s knee to his covered interface array.

Prowl’s hand closed on Jazz’s wrist, and he pulled back. “No, Jazz. We’re in public.”

With a huff, Jazz removed his hands from Prowl’s frame and sat back. “So it’s all right for ya to be climbin’ down my intake, but not for me to touch yer array?”

Smiling, Prowl kept his hand on Jazz’s waist. “Kissing is fine. And it’s not your touch that’s the problem… It’s my reaction to it.” When Jazz tilted his helm inquisitively, Prowl explained, “I’m afraid that I would be unable to override the request to open my array.”

“Oh? So yer sayin’ I’m irresistible?” Jazz reached for Prowl’s array again, but Prowl tightened his grip on his wrist. 

“In the worst possible way,” Prowl purred. “Exposing your interface array in public is a violation of city bylaw 69.0.1.a, section 9. If I was charged with that offence, it may have a detrimental effect on my career in the Enforcers.”

“Aww, there’s no one around,” Jazz said pleadingly. 

Just then, a group of three mechs walked past the grotto where they sat, laughing and chatting between themselves. Prowl looked at Jazz, and raised a brow ridge at him.

Blowing another gust of heated air from his vents, Jazz said, “Oh, fine then. I guess we could just sit here and talk about the weather.” He twisted his wrist out of Prowl’s grasp and primly sat back with his hands on his knees.

Prowl put an arm around Jazz’s shoulders, and leaned towards him so he could murmur into Jazz’s audial. “Or,” he said quietly, “I could describe what I would like to do to you when we get back to my place tonight.”

“Like what?” Jazz turned his helm slightly to look at Prowl out of the side of his visor.

Brushing his lips lightly against Jazz’s helm, Prowl whispered, “If I tell you, you have to promise to keep your array closed. It would be very improper for me to be sitting here next to a mech with his spike and valve exposed to passers-by.”

At the mental image of himself sitting here on the bench with his intimate equipment hanging out, Jazz’s cooling fans clicked into a slightly higher speed. “Right,” Jazz said with a grin. “Wouldn’t want ya to have to arrest me.”

“Indeed.” Prowl tilted his helm so he could look at Jazz from a less oblique angle. “So, do we have a deal?”

“Yeah, deal,” Jazz said. He issued a lock command to his array cover, and leaned back into Prowl’s arm. He kept his hands on his thighs. “All right, enlighten me. What’ll ya do to me when ya get me home?”

Prowl’s optics were fixed on Jazz’s visor. “Remember the night we met?” he asked. “When we couldn’t keep our hands or our lips off of each other, and ended up in the berthroom almost as soon as we walked in the door?”

“Of course,” Jazz said. He had kept those memory files and replayed them often, usually on late nights alone when Prowl was on shift. Reliving the frantic feel of that first night together, with Prowl’s digits roaming all over his frame and his lips sucking on every cord in his neck, was the fastest way Jazz had of self-servicing himself into an overload.

Prowl leaned in and kissed the corner of Jazz’s mouth chastely. “As soon as we get back to my place, I will pick you up just like I did that first night, and carry you to my berth.”

“You just like carrying a cute little mech like me around,” Jazz said with a grin.

“Indeed I do,” said Prowl. He placed a digit at the base of Jazz’s neck and drew it upwards lightly to his chin guard, then traced it across his jaw line and up to his audial receiver. “I don’t want to waste any time. I want to lay you on your back. I want to crawl on top of you and press you down. I want to cover you with my frame and kiss you thoroughly... Like this.”

Grabbing Jazz’s chin suddenly, Prowl turned the smaller mech’s helm towards him and pressed his mouth to Jazz’s. Offlining his visor, Jazz opened his mouth, letting Prowl’s glossa slip in as their lips pulled on and glided against each other. His processor had already been supplying him with what it felt like to have Prowl pushing him down into a berth. At the kiss, his fans kicked up to a faster speed.

Prowl gave Jazz’s bottom lip a light bite before pulling away again. “Then,” Prowl said quietly, “I will continue to kiss my way down your frame.” The digit returned, tracing a line from Jazz’s chin to his throat, down his collar and onto his chest. “I would lavish extra attention on those transformation seams that seem to be so sensitive,” he whispered, and the digit lightly traced the seams he was referring to. 

Jazz’s fans stuttered slightly. “I’m liking this so far,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. He onlined his visor again and met Prowl’s optics. “But if ya want me to keep my arrayed covered, careful where those hands of yours go next, Prowler.”

“Noted.” Prowl’s hand left Jazz’s chest armor, and Jazz suddenly regretted giving Prowl the warning. Then again, he didn’t really want to get Prowl into any trouble... And he didn’t want to have to pay a ticket, either. However, Prowl simply rested his hand on Jazz’s knee, and his other arm pulled the racer closer to him. “After giving your chest and abdomen a sufficient amount of attention, I would then move down to your interface array. Tell me, Jazz... Would it be open already?”

Jazz offlined his visor once more and leaned his helm back onto Prowl’s arm. His array was heated, but he hadn’t had to issue any overrides to keep it closed yet. “Hmm. Don’t think so, Prowler. Not yet.”

A throaty laugh. “All right. Then I would lick my way down to your panel cover, and trace its edges with my glossa. It’s hot. I can feel how hot yours is now, you know.” Jazz felt a slight waft of a breeze on the back of his helm; Prowl must have twitched one of his door wings. “It’s so warm that I wonder how you could possibly be keeping it closed. So I draw the tips of my digits down the inside of your thighs...” 

The hand on Jazz’s knee twitched slightly, and Jazz felt the slight rake of Prowl’s claws as they gently dug into his plating. Jazz sucked air in through his vents at the sensation.

A warning about his array cover appeared briefly on Jazz’s HUD. He issued an override command.

“A’ight, you’d have my array open by now,” Jazz said. He failed at keeping the static from his vocalizer.

“Lovely,” Prowl purred into his audial. “And tell me... When I push my digits into your valve, how much lubricant do I find?”

Jazz could feel the lubricant pooling behind his closed array. “A lot,” he said, sounding slightly choked.

Prowl made a pleased-sounding hum. “That’s what I thought,” he said. He shifted again, pulling Jazz even tighter against him. His other hand kneaded the racer’s knee. “One finger slips into your valve so easily, I remember, so I push in two. You’re so wet. I slide my thumb across your valve, picking up some of that slick lubricant, and then rub it against your upper node.” Jazz felt Prowl’s lips against his audial. “You always make the most interesting sounds when I do that.”

Jazz nodded blindly. It was true. Prowl always found the perfect pressure: not too light as to be teasing, but not so hard as to be painful. 

“But there’s something else I’m interested in tonight,” Prowl said. “Can you guess what it is?”

Jazz shook his helm.

“Surely, with how wet you are, your spike is fully pressurized, yes?” Prowl asked quietly. When Jazz nodded quickly, Prowl laughed again, low and deep. “Of course it is. It’s such a beautiful spike, too. Have I told you that?”

Jazz nodded, his memory files helpfully providing him with the first time Prowl had commented on his spike’s design. “Yeah. A few times, I think.”

“Oh good. I’m glad, because it is quite enticing. So enticing, in fact, that I run my glossa up its length to the very tip and –“

The thought of Prowl’s mouth on his spike just about lost Jazz the battle right then. His HUD flashed another warning that his interface array **needed** to open: it was hot and wet and _frag don’t think about things that are hot and wet_ and his spike housing was trying to iris open but it couldn’t with his array closed and... He ground his dentae together and forced another lock command on his array. A quiet squeal came from his engine.

“Are you all right, Jazz?” Prowl murmured into his audial. “You’ve been doing such a good job keeping your panel closed so far.”

Nodding, Jazz squeezed his hands on his thighs. “I got this,” he said, trying for a tone that sounded confident but ending up with a squeaky mumble instead.

“Good. You’re doing very well,” said Prowl, and Jazz could hear the smirk in his voice. “Now where was I?” he asked.

“You were licking my spike,” whispered Jazz. His engine stuttered.

“Oh yes,” said Prowl. “I licked up the full length of your spike. Those ridges around the head... Have I mentioned how delicious they feel in my valve?” he asked.

Jazz wasn’t sure Prowl had ever said anything like that, but he did know how Prowl’s valve felt on his spike. He whimpered.

“My glossa swirls around each of those ridges as I lick my way upwards, finding the valley and then the ridge, then the next, until I reach the head of your spike. I suck the whole head into my mouth, and then my lips trail back past those same ridges, over a ridge and then through another valley, down and down, as I swallow your spike, taking it further and further into my intake...” The soft rumble of Prowl’s engine had become a positively obscene counterpoint to his quiet murmur in Jazz’s audial.

Jazz moaned quietly. A knot of desire had slowly built in his lower abdomen, the pressure forming from the moment Prowl had started talking. Now, the pressure had become impossible to ignore. Jazz’s hands tightened on his thighs so hard that he was sure he was going to leave dents.

Prowl’s voice continued crooning softly in his audial, relentless and insistent. “It’s divine, this spike of yours. I work my way down its length, then pull back, drawing my glossa up with my lips, then down again.” Prowl’s digits rubbed a small circle on Jazz’s knee in counterpoint to his words. “I want to take it again and again, over and over, feeling it twitch in my mouth as you get closer and closer to an overload, until – Jazz, I want to feel you overload in my mouth, please, I want to feel the hot spurt of transfluid hit the back of my intake, I want to hear you gasp my designation as your body bows upwards and your legs jerk as I suck down everything you can give me –“

The tight knot that had been growing in Jazz’s lower abdomen suddenly loosened, sending a jolt of charge down through Jazz’s thighs and interface panel, then ricocheting upwards through his hips and his spinal strut. His mouth gaped open as his engine stalled and his fans stopped momentarily before roaring back to life, sounding very loud in the small grotto.

Jazz onlined his visor in a panic. “I’m sorry!” he gasped, his hands flying to cover his interface panel. He didn’t know what that was, but it sure **felt** like an overload, which meant his panel...

...was closed. He even looked down to make sure. He could feel a sopping mess behind his closed panel, but his override had held. Relief washed over him like a cool breeze, and he leaned back into Prowl’s arm with a groan.

“That was gorgeous to see, Jazz,” Prowl murmured, nuzzling the side of Jazz’s helm. His optics were far brighter than normal, and his lips were twisted into a needful smile. “You are so beautiful when you overload.”

Jazz laughed. “Is that what that was?” he asked when his fans had quieted slightly. He fumbled for Prowl’s hand and squeezed it. “How the frag did ya get me to overload just by talkin’?”

Prowl’s magnificent door wings swiveled as the Enforcer smirked. “I am trained to be very persuasive,” he said. “I’ve found that skill can be useful in a wide variety of situations.”

“Well, ya can persuade me any time, Prowler,” Jazz said, catching Prowl’s lips in a kiss.

Prowl hummed against Jazz’s mouth, obviously enjoying the kiss, until their lips parted again. “I think we should start making our way to the restaurant for dinner,” he said. He glanced down at Jazz’s interface panel for a moment, then looked into Jazz’s visor again. “Should we stop someplace on the way so you can clean up?”

Jazz’s engine gave a little rev at the thought of sitting through dinner with his panel dripping, but he didn’t think the wait staff would be very amused. “That might be a good idea,” he said. As they stood up to go, he added, “But just to be clear, when we get back to your place, are ya gonna do everything to me that ya just promised?”

“Every word,” Prowl purred, placing his hand on Jazz’s lower back as they began to walk to the edge of the park. “Every word, and then some.”


End file.
